


Songs in the Key of Run

by eve11



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 20:29:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eve11/pseuds/eve11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for an anon prompt: Rory sings the Doctor to sleep.  (With added peril and h/c thrown in)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Songs in the Key of Run

It was supposed to have been a relaxing picnic. But it seemed, when it came to the Ponds, River, and the Doctor, any family reunion invariably ended with mortal peril and running. Instead of boxed lunches and a thermos of tea, it was an alien menace in the woods, distrustful rural locals, arrests and separation. Rory and the Doctor hadn't seen Amy nor River since they'd been separated and trucked away toward "the women's town" while the two of them had been carted off toward the creatively moniker'ed "men's town," some ways away if the travel time blindfolded and trussed in carts was any indication. 

Rory had to hope the girls were faring better than he and the Doctor. The truth serum drugs the men had given the two of them had left them addled and fuzzy-headed. It had also dialed the Doctor's touch telepathy up so far he could hardly stand contact through his clothes. 

Miserable, light-headed and jumpy, it took six hours for the Doctor to spring them from the barn-like prison where they were being held, when in usual circumstances Rory was sure it would have taken less than one. Upon escape, they were greeted with alien countryside, no idea which direction River and Amy were in, and the prospects of a soon-to-be-displeased posse of locals on their heels. 

The only point of reference they had was the Doctor's uncanny knack for homing in on the TARDIS. Once they reached her, they could use the life-signs tracers to search for Amy and River's unique bio-prints, so the Doctor said. He set off unerringly across the hills and meadows, unfamiliar stars and three moons glowing in the night sky. 

"How far?" Rory asked, panting for breath, what seemed like hours later. They'd found an old hunting shelter or blind built up among the thin, twisting trees whose intricate inlays of corkscrew patterns were what had brought them to Devree in the first place. He wasn't sure how long they could keep going; they were practically holding each other upright from running, and he could feel the pain of contact in the Doctor's tense muscles under his hands. If they had to stop, better to stop where they could find shelter and a hiding place. "How far is she?"

"Don't know," the Doctor slurred. "Ten miles? I don't--" he swayed and hissed when Rory caught him, skin on bare skin. They both crumpled to the ground. In the distance Rory could hear horns and what sounded like rifle fire, overlaid with fleeting images and glimpses of horror, detached, unwanted, like a nightmare or a dream--

"Sorry," the Doctor said, brushing off Rory's touch with a sweep of his hands, smoothing over his coat sleeves as though he could brush the memories aside as well. "Sorry, it's bleeding through. T-try not to touch."

He tried to stand and doubled over, the only thing saving him from retching onto the ground being an empty stomach. 

"That's it," Rory said, guiding the Doctor toward the shelter with as little contact as possible. The Doctor tried to protest but he was too dizzy and fatigued to make a go of it. That just reinforced Rory's command decision. "We're stopping here for now."

The blind was a wall of stones, encouraging the tree branches to interlock like a lattice above them. Thatch might have covered the roof at one point but now it was open to the stars. The floor was packed dirt, damp but not mucky. The stones stalled the night air, and Rory could still see through sets of peep-holes inlaid at regular intervals, meant for tracking game but equally well suited for scanning for patrols.

He turned and took stock. The serum's effect was fading on him; he could tell by the fact that the smell of this place wasn't setting his head spinning, and that he was finally noticing his parched throat. But the Doctor--he was leaning his back against the wall, shivering. He would try to take a deep breath, to relax, but it brought a grimace and another round of restless limbs--searching for something solid to hold on to.

He stepped tentatively toward his friend. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked. He didn't even want to take a temperature, not if it meant touching his hand to the Doctor's forehead.

"Trance," the Doctor said through shallow breaths. "If I can calm the systems down, I can go into a h--healing state, I can . . ."

Rory smiled. "You can sleep it off, you mean."

The Doctor rolled his head to one side, eyes focused as best they could on Rory, and tried to look annoyed. "One of the ultimate mysteries of a Time Lord, Rory. Have--" he broke off, scrunching his face up in pain and coughing in the chill. "Have some respect," he finished with a short laugh.

Rory knelt beside the Doctor. He tried to massage the other man's muscles through his clothes but it was too much contact; he could feel the headache spiking for both of them before he let go. Snatches of other lives, other places, a burnished orange sky intermixed with silly rhymes and songs he and Amy had--

The Doctor's breath caught, and then he sighed. "What was that?" he asked. 

Rory stopped, trying to replay his thoughts. "What was what?" 

"A . . . a poem," the Doctor said again and frowned. "No, not a poem, a chant. A . . . " He stopped, still trying to collect his breath. "Been to Earth thousands of times," he muttered. "Never heard of an 'earworm' out of all the worms on the planet."

Rory gave a silent laugh. "A song," he said. "I think it just gets stuck in my head when we're in mortal peril." 

"Must have it memorized by now," the Doctor said.

"Amy used to tease me with it . . . until I started teasing her." He settled down for as much comfort as he could muster and still keep watch. "Teenagers. You know how they are."

"I really don't," the Doctor said, and Rory believed him. "How's it go?" he continued. His breathing was calming. "I thought I caught a bit but it sounded all . . . frenetic and crashing. I do know frenetic and crashing." He waved a hand.

"Nah, that's just one way of singing it," Rory said. And because it was the Doctor with him, here on an alien planet a billion miles from anywhere, and because it was truly in the midst of mortal peril, he started humming, and then adding a set of words to a quiet but insistent beat:

_Fell in love with a girl. I fell in love once and almost completely._  
 _Well she's in love with the world, but sometimes these feelings can be so misleading--_

The Doctor huffed a laugh. Rory saw he was smiling, and kept singing. Above them, clouds scudded past the stars.

_. . . Red hair with a curl, mellow roll for the flavor and the eyes were peeping.  
Can't keep away from the girl, these two sides of my brain need to have a meeting . . ._

The Doctor "hmf"-ed thoughtfully at that line and sighed in appreciation, his eyes closing and his head leaning back against the stone. Rory's eyes traced the patterns of the trees above them, and he kept singing, tapping a finger on his knee and wondering whether Amy and River were looking at the sky. He came around to the refrain again:

_. . . Can't think of anything to do, well my left brain knows all love is fleeting,_  
 _She's just looking for something new and I said it once before but it bears--_

"Repeating," the Doctor sighed, and was asleep under the stars.

At dawn, the strains of the TARDIS filling the glade signified to both of them that said girls had, in fact, had a better go of it than they had.


End file.
